


Don't You (Forget About Me)

by Galpalkru



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, F/F, Fluff, Happy Ending, Humor, dumbassbisexual!Beca, jealous!Chloe, mostly just people being immature and dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-04-02 20:53:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4073536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galpalkru/pseuds/Galpalkru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you drunkenly sleep with your best friend, you’re both just supposed to pretend that you don’t remember, right? Even if you know that she knows that you know that she knows. Yeah.</p><p>Or the one where Beca and Chloe sleep together and refuse to be the first to admit that they both remember everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Call It What You Want

**Author's Note:**

> The Bechloe feels still haven’t gone away. I sincerely apologize. These two idiots are about to put you through some shit(s and giggles), though angst is limited. Enjoy.

Beca waking up in Chloe’s bed wasn’t exactly an abnormal thing. Beca waking up in Chloe’s bed ass naked was.

 

It took her a moment to get a hold of her surroundings, not at all assisted by the pounding headache with which her good friend tequila had provided her. But there’s no mistaking the obnoxious butter yellow walls (a color that Beca had warned Chloe against and that she’s almost sure the redhead is keeping to drive her insane) and the giant ladybug that Chloe had painstakingly stenciled across from her bed.

 

And it certainly wasn’t possible to miss the matching ladybug tattooed on the underside of the wrist draped across Beca’s waist. Slowly, Beca slid her body away from Chloe’s, astounded at her luck when her friend stirred for a moment before simply rolling over to face the opposite direction.

 

One of the great benefits of being a tiny human is that you don’t make a lot of noise. Tiptoeing as best as she could with her equilibrium severely thrown off by her hangover, Beca located her jeans, shirt, and underwear, notably all spread around the room as if they’d been flung impatiently the night before. Her bra, strangely, was farthest of all, caught by a strap on one of Chloe’s dresser drawers.

 

Her other clothing items tucked under her arm, Beca slowly slid across Chloe’s rug. Fingertips one centimeter away from the offending undergarment, her balance chose that precise moment to give out, sending her keeling forwards into Chloe’s dresser with a slam. As the bedsprings creaked in concert with a muffled “huh?” from the room’s occupant, Beca sprinted out, diving through her own open door.

 

By the time Chloe had emerged and shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes, Beca was nonchalantly pulling a carton of milk out of the fridge. They both froze as they made eye contact, Beca’s eyes darting down to take note of the bright red and purple marks dotting Chloe’s neck. She was sure that she didn’t strike a much better picture, hair thrown into a messy top bun, covered in nothing but one of Jesse’s old flannels.

 

Chloe eventually broke the silence with a weak “hey,” taking a seat at the kitchen counter and dropping her head between her hands. “Being a bit bold, starting off with the milk?” Beca could do nothing but stare at her roommate, the neck of the oversized shirt the redhead herself wore falling open to reveal a distinct hickey line from her collarbone to… “I mean if you’re feeling anything like I am.”

 

“Oh.” Beca dumbly placed the carton back in the fridge. “Yeah, probably.” Grabbing two glasses from the cabinet, she poured water for each of them and passed it over to Chloe, who shot her a weak approximation of her normal grin. “So, last night.”

 

Chloe froze with the glass to her lips, her eyes meeting Beca’s for an instant before locking onto the counter as she slowly placed the glass back down with a painful gulp. “Tequila, right?” she offered slowly. Beca nodded, peering at her friend as she did her best attempt to look anywhere else around the room.

 

A pregnant moment later, she coughed. “I mean, I don’t remember a thing.”

 

Chloe let out a hollow laugh. “Yeah, same. Too many boys, too many shots, right?” She stood up slowly, using the counter as support. “I’m gonna go grab some Advil. Want any?”

 

“Uh, yeah. Thanks.” Beca leaned back against the fridge as Chloe walked past, the bottom of her shirt barely meeting the tops of her thighs. Thighs that Beca sure as shit knew far too well at this point. Beca Mitchell remembered everything, and that was a problem.

* * *

It had started out like any normal Saturday night. Chloe, ecstatic at the fact that for once they were both free on the same night, insisted that they go to this new club that a girl at her dance studio had told her about. “Her boyfriend is a promoter or something, I don’t know,” she’d said, perched on the edge of Beca’s bed. “Either way, she can get us in for free. As she put it, after taking enough of my classes, my dance moves could ‘only bring positive publicity to the club.’” Chloe had been nearly glowing with pride at this statement, and Beca was honestly thrilled that her friend had found a profession that fit her so well.

 

When Beca had first gotten the studio job in LA, she’d scoured Craigslist for hours in search of a roommate. Though she lacked student loans to repay, thanks to her dad, living in LA alone was pretty much impossible as a recent grad. Chloe had of course attempted to help, ‘screening’ each and every one of Beca’s possible candidates, declaring them all ‘unworthy to share a world champion’s apartment.’ As Beca had scoffed at this statement, Chloe had gone silent for a moment before her eyes lit up.

 

“You don’t need Craigslist,” she declared. “I’ll be your roommate.”

 

“Chlo, what are you even talking about?” Beca rolled her eyes and attempted to return to the search, only to find her laptop closed on her fingers.

 

“I’m pretty sure there are both underprivileged youths and exotic dancing establishments in Los Angeles.” Beca found her mouth covered by a soft hand as she opened it to protest. “No. I’m coming. It’s not like I have any concrete plans yet.” And Beca had found it hard to disagree when Chloe adopted that particular pout of hers.

 

So they’d found a two-bedroom apartment within reasonable driving distance of Beca’s job, and Chloe had spent the first week or two hiking around LA with a resume that consisted mainly of ‘a capella afficionado’ and ‘kickass choreographer.’ As luck would have it, she’d happened upon a dance studio run by a former Bella, thrilled to hire one of the captains of the World Champion team. And Chloe seemed genuinely happy, bursting into Beca’s room nearly every night to show off some new booty shake or floor drop that she had come up with.

 

Beca’s long hours prevented much interaction between the two beyond this, except on Sunday afternoons, when they draped themselves across the couch in front of their tiny TV, marathoning some old 90’s show or another that Chloe was horrified to learn that Beca had never heard of. Chloe’s eyes would stay glued to the TV and Beca’s eyes would wander over to Chloe, watching as she automatically mouthed the lines to her favorite parts or clenched her fists in suspense at scenes she’d surely seen over and over.

 

So it was this very lack of time for ‘post-grad Bella bonding,’ as Chloe called it, which had Beca reluctantly peeling on a pair of skinny jeans to go with a shirt and a pair of heels that she’d ‘borrowed’ from Chloe sometime in her junior year. Chloe herself was in a skin-tight skirt that barely covered her ass, paired with a loose tank top and the heels she’d bought to replace the ones Beca had stolen. An hour later, after some heated words shared between Beca and the bouncer regarding body parts to be shown to gain swift entry, Chloe had talked their way into the club before Beca could get herself arrested.

 

After a completely uncalled for comment regarding Beca’s height and her inability to get the bartender’s attention, because “whose neck actually cranes down that far Beca,” the two managed to secure drinks and a table midway between the bar and the dance floor. Chloe launched into a lengthy critique of the technique of the Go Go dancers on the raised platforms throughout the club, Beca only half paying attention as she herself edited the DJ’s mix in her mind. As Chloe emphatically gestured, Beca caught sight of two guys making their way over to the table, drinks in hand.

 

They weren’t unattractive, thankfully, and Chloe easily filled in any gaps that Beca’s natural prickliness created in the conversation. After they left to get the girls a fourth round of drinks (not including the two shots they’d each had), Chloe, flushed and giggly in fine drunken form, pressed a finger to Beca’s lips in a hushing motion and dragged her onto the dance floor.

 

It was around then that things got a bit hazy for her. Things always got hazy for Beca when Chloe’s hips and hands were involved, and she was particularly liberal with the use of both that night. To be honest, the area of the dance floor that they’d settled in wasn’t particularly crowded, and Beca began some old jokey, synchronized dance routine they’d come up with drunk at a Treblemakers party, but Chloe wasn’t having it. There was something different in those bright blue eyes, and when she took Beca’s hand for a twirl, she didn’t spin the brunette back out.

 

Instead, Beca found herself pressed flush against Chloe, her back to her friend’s chest, and all the air left her lungs. They’d constantly toed a certain line when they danced together, brief moments of grinding in dance-offs with Cynthia Rose and Stacie or to mess with Jesse’s head if Beca was feeling particularly cruel that night, but this was pure, down and dirty, rhythmic sex. Chloe’s hands slowly moved down Beca’s sides, sending a shiver up her spine so clearly that Beca swore she could feel Chloe’s smile against the back of her head. One thumb rested right above the waistband of Beca’s jeans, and her skin burned when her shirt shifted up as they moved. The other hand moved back to her shoulder, slowly tucking her hair behind her ear as Chloe leaned in, her breath hot and short.

 

Beca expected some sort of jokey, flirtatious remark, and she could feel Chloe open her mouth for a second before the redhead leaned back out, the hairs on the back of Beca’s neck standing up at this lack of contact. She didn’t know how long they stayed like that, Chloe’s hips and hands controlling Beca like an all-too-willing marionette; not that she’d complain, because she was pretty sure she’d lost all power to move her own limbs sometime around when Chloe’s thumb slipped below the waistline of her pants.

 

The trouble really began when ‘Trap Queen’ came on. Chloe had a certain weakness for obscene rap with powerful bass lines, and Beca at first thought she would be released from this glorious torment and given a moment to screw her head back on as Chloe removed her hands from under Beca’s shirt. And maybe they would’ve been fine, but she made the mistake of turning back around just as Chloe performed some sort of ass-drop body-roll whatever-the-fuck-it-was-hot move, punctuated by the dirtiest wink she’d ever shot Beca’s way (and there were many against which she could judge).

 

She was completely undone by the come hither motion. Chloe’s long, slender fingers reached out towards Beca, beckoning her to return. And what was a girl to do when a gorgeous redhead with an ass like Chloe Beale’s grabs the back of your neck as you step close and leans down to fill the few remaining inches between you?

 

It wasn’t like it was the first time they’d kissed. Twice during Bella Truth or Dare games, once to get into a bar when Beca was still underage, and a final time when Chloe had went to kiss Beca’s cheek just as she turned to face her. It wasn’t even the first time there’d been tongue, because Chloe went all in on everything. But it was the first time that Beca had allowed a moan to escape her lips, lost as Chloe trailed kisses down her jawline. Chloe pulled back at this, forcing another embarrassing whimper out of Beca. Their eyes met, and it was Beca who leaned up to Chloe’s ear. “Wanna get out of here?”

 

The cab ride back to their apartment was a test in patience. Hands linked, they took turns shooting burning glances at each other before shoving an exorbitant tip that neither of them could afford into the driver’s hands and sprinting up three flights of stairs.

 

The moment they were inside, Chloe clasped her arms under Beca’s thighs, hoisting her up against the door as she marked Beca with the first of many hickeys to come. The younger girl responded in turn by threading her hands through Chloe’s hair, completely disheveling what was left of her meticulous updo after the humid club had had its turn. As Chloe’s right hand shifted to cup Beca’s ass, Beca dropped her head back against the door with a groan.

 

“Chlo.” The molten gaze was back, damn near hypnotizing as Beca barely managed to choke out, “Bed. Now.” And of course Chloe’s ridiculous hours at the gym paid off as she carried Beca into her bedroom without a second thought before dropping her unceremoniously on the bed and stepping back with a giggle at Beca’s indignant shout.

 

Chloe stood there for a moment, biting her lip with concern splashed across her face, as Beca silently watched. “Are you…I mean, I—“

 

“Chloe. Is that really a question?” It was Beca’s turn to reach up for Chloe, dragging her by the arm into a deep kiss. As Chloe’s knees hit the bed, she paused for a moment to kick off her heels, forehead resting against Beca’s as she took the time to pull off her roommate’s shoes as well. Dropping them on the floor, she crawled forwards, Beca scooting back slowly as Chloe’s hands slipped under her shirt.

 

She felt like she was simultaneously burning, coming apart, and being pieced back together as Chloe placed long kisses down her neck, returning every few seconds to capture her bottom lip with a fervor that was sure to leave it swollen the next day, her hands slowly dragging across Beca’s abdomen. Beca’s arms began to shake as she held herself up, breath irregular and short even before Chloe pulled off her shirt and undid her bra in a nearly simultaneous motion.

 

Once both of the garments had been thrown to opposite ends of the room, Chloe leaned back on her heels, staring over her roommate with something akin to wonder. “God, Becs,” she sighed, placing her hands on Beca’s hips and leaning down to trail kisses up from her navel.

 

Beca, needing to distract herself from how absurdly turned on she was, let out a weak laugh. “It’s not—ah—like you haven’t…haven’t seen it all before.” _Solid effort, Mitchell._

 

Chloe responded with a pout and a quick nip to Beca’s torso before returning to her mouth, tongue slipping between her lips as Beca decided that Chloe was wearing distinctly too many clothes. She sat up as best as she could to push off Chloe’s tank top, placing a soft kiss to a scar on her left hipbone from a particularly questionable choreography experiment junior year, hands moving next to roam down thighs toned from years of dancing.

 

Before Chloe could react, Beca had reversed their positions and sat straddling the dancer’s hips with a look of triumph. Underneath her, Chloe’s bright eyes were wider than she’d ever seen them, this strange combination of trust and need mingling together. Beca leaned down, thanking God (or more accurately Victoria and all her Secrets) for the wonder of the front-clasping bra as pulled Chloe’s off and palmed her breasts, smirking as Chloe’s eyes rolled back.

 

It wasn’t enough, though, and as that look of need returned, Beca sucked a hard line of kisses down from Chloe’s neck to between her breasts as she slid one hand from the inside of her knee up to the edge of her skirt. Their eyes met for a moment as Beca’s hand lingered at the bottom until Chloe nodded almost desperately. Beca shifted herself backwards until she was balanced with one leg on either side of Chloe’s right thigh, slowly inching the skirt up at a pace that was purposefully agonizing before slipping her right hand up to her roommate’s center. And Chloe Beale was not wearing any underwear.

 

“Damn it, Beale,” Beca gasped out. It was Chloe’s turn to smirk, delivering yet another lascivious wink, only to be interrupted as she cried out when Beca easily slid a finger between her folds. Beca was admittedly out of her depth here, but years of dexterity developed via complicated sound equipment seemed to serve her well as Chloe’s hips jerked against her hand. Beca’s thumb moved to the older girl’s clit, lazily rubbing circles as Chloe breathlessly chanted her name, hands balled in the sheets.

 

When Beca added another finger, Chloe’s hand latched onto her left shoulder, and their eyes locked. Speeding up her pace, Beca rolled her knee in closer behind her hand, prompting a moan from Chloe as her walls tightened around Beca’s fingers. The redhead’s nails were digging into Beca’s back almost painfully at this point, but she couldn’t care less as Chloe damn near screamed her name as her body shook, stilled, and fell backwards.

 

Beca slowly removed her hand, kissing above the line of the skirt as Chloe’s chest rose and fell, her head back against her pillows. Taking the time to pull Chloe’s skirt back down, Beca caught sight of a star tattooed on her friend’s right hipbone. “What’s this?”

 

Chloe lazily tilted her head up, half-open eyes covered by flawlessly full lashes. “Oh, yeah,” she mumbled. “I got that after the first time we won Nationals. It’s my Bella tattoo.”

 

It would’ve been cliché and stupid, but it was Chloe, so it was pretty much adorable. Beca planted a slight kiss on it before nipping at Chloe’s hipbone just alongside the star, prompting a gasp from its owner. Beca looked up with a lazy grin. “That’s the Beca tattoo.”

 

“Oh my god, you giant dork,” Chloe said, grabbing Beca by her shoulders and pulling her up into a kiss. They stayed like that for a few moments, Beca astride Chloe’s hips as she sat against her headboard, quiet and gentle until Beca slowly began to roll her own hips flush against the redhead’s body.

 

Chloe pushed Beca back with surprising force until she landed on her back with her head nearly hanging off the foot of the bed. The taller girl let her eyes wander for a moment, hand slowly sliding up the inside of Beca’s thigh in a motion that sent shocks throughout her whole body even through her jeans. “I think you’re a bit too well-dressed.” Beca, who happened to agree whole-heartedly with this statement, simply bit her bottom lip as Chloe undid the button of her jeans and pulled them down at a truly torturous pace, thumbs pausing to drag across newly bared skin as she went.

 

Beca closed her eyes as she felt her legs fully exposed. The air above her was empty and still for a moment, and she was about to make some snarky remark about whether Chloe had dozed off before she felt a kiss planted right over her underwear. Her hands shot into Chloe’s hair, and the other girl looked up with a truly killer grin.

 

“See, this is the benefit of not wearing underwear,” she purred. “I’d already be where you wanted me, but…”

 

“Chloe, I swear to God.” Beca knew her threat had much less force behind it with the keen that accompanied it, but Chloe obliged anyways, Beca raising her hips as Chloe slid the offending garment down without any delay. They sat there for a moment before Chloe confirmed that seven years of acapella training and diction exercises did carry over into certain skills post-graduation.

 

And for a while after, things were normal. Beca tasted herself on Chloe’s tongue when she kissed her, which was new, and Chloe rested her head on Beca’s shoulder as the younger girl caught her breath. “So,” Chloe began.

 

All Beca could manage was a low hum in response, prompting a bright peal of laughter from Chloe.

 

“Beca Mitchell, out of words? I should’ve tried this years ago.” Chloe’s head shot up for a moment, a look of horror on her face. “I mean, I—“

 

“Chlo.” Beca reached out and cradled the other girl’s face as concern gave way to a soft smile. “Wouldn’t have been the worst idea.”

 

Chloe’s eyes lit up as she leaned forward to place a light kiss on Beca’s forehead. “Can we talk about this tomorrow?”

 

Beca nodded. “Yeah, of course.” They’d shifted slightly until Beca’s body curled into Chloe’s, hands intertwined as Chloe’s arms looped around her waist. Chloe fell asleep first, as always, Beca’s eyes slowly falling shut as she listened to Chloe’s even breaths.

* * *

After they’d shared another few glasses of water in silence, Beca had muttered something about needing to catch up on some work, nearly sprinting into her room and shutting the door for the first time since they’d moved in. Chloe sat at the counter for a moment before washing the glasses and slowly plodding back into her room.

 

Alcohol rarely affected her too heavily, but Chloe’s head spun as she flopped back onto her disheveled bed. Deciding that a shower might be best if Beca was going to be locked in her room for the foreseeable future, she stood up to grab clothes from her dresser, and froze when she saw what was hanging from the middle drawer.

 

Beca knew.


	2. I Want You to Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe deals with the realization in her own way, decides that she's screwed, and calls in for reinforcements.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you may have noticed, the chapter count has been upped from four to five, because otherwise this chapter was probably going to be around 8K wordswise, and I don’t know how y’all would feel about that. So. The trash party continues, this time with about 100% more plot. Had to go along with the idea that Stacie is clearly a Bechloe shipper. Enjoy.

Beca knew, and Chloe had woken up that morning, alone, praying that if she just waited another minute, Beca would come back from the bathroom or the kitchen or whatever with a smile on her face, kissing Chloe and laughing and making some remark about how they’d “finally” seen each other naked and Sunday would be spent in a pile of limbs and kisses and, of course, 90’s television. But Beca hadn’t returned, and Chloe’s concern had won out, because her tiny roommate had had admittedly a significant amount to drink, and she could be throwing up in the bathroom or need help or something. So Chloe had pulled on a shirt and cautiously walked into the kitchen, only to see Beca standing there, a look somewhere between terror and confusion on her face, but with regret nowhere to be found.  

 

And she’d been so hopeful for a moment as Beca had raised the subject of the night before, but she didn’t want to push her, so she’d responded vaguely, a smile playing around her lips as silence hung over them.

 

Her stomach had dropped when Beca said she couldn’t remember at all, but Chloe Beale was nothing if not a great actress, and she covered the lump in her throat with a laugh and went to the bathroom under the guise of painkillers, taking a moment to collect herself because really, if Beca didn’t remember, there wasn’t any harm done. And they’d sat there in silence and Chloe felt empty, but they could still be friends, and her friendship with Beca was the best thing she had.

 

But nothing could’ve prepared her for this. Beca knew. She knew why her neck was covered in red marks that Chloe had truly meant to apologize for because it’d be hard to cover up at work and who wears a scarf in Los Angeles in August, she knew why she’d woken up in Chloe’s bed, and she knew what had happened last night. She had to know that she’d whispered in Chloe’s ear and made her heart jump as she pulled her out of the club, that she’d leaned over to Chloe on the ride home and detailed everything she wanted to do to her, causing the older girl’s face to burn as the cab driver winked at them in the mirror, that she’d climbed on top and pushed her over the brink before screaming out Chloe’s name herself as they came apart around each other.

 

Chloe dropped back down on her bed, grabbing a nearby pillow and curling up into the fetal position. The tears she’d managed to choke back came then, silent with practice after years of crying over Beca Mitchell. She’d managed to hide it after their first Nationals, when she’d locked eyes with Beca only to see her jump off stage and kiss Jesse. Only Aubrey had known what happened then, because Aubrey had always known, and would test Beca over and over just to make sure that she was worth Chloe’s time and love. The last time she’d cried over Beca, it’d been hidden by the sounds of Natalie Imbruglia and Cynthia Rose’s protests. Maybe it hadn’t been the best time to talk about “experimenting,” surrounded by the rest of the Bellas, but it had slipped out, and it had hurt for Beca to turn away, to brush it off just like everything else.

 

But this time was different. She recognized Beca’s regretful face well enough, or all of Beca’s faces for that matter, to know that that was not on her mind this morning. If anything, it was nerves, worry, and vulnerability. Maybe she just needed time, and Chloe would give it to her if that were true.

 

She sat up, filled with new determination. Sunday afternoon TV would be the perfect time to slowly, carefully broach the subject. Because Chloe was patient, and if she could make it four years waiting for Beca, what would another few hours be? And so she sang ‘Titanium’ in the shower, and yeah, she spent another extra twenty minutes on her hair, but Chloe Beale went all in on everything. So her hand also shook a bit as she did her makeup, but hangovers could do that to a girl.

 

At 3:00, right on the dot, she took a deep breath and knocked on Beca’s door. “Uh huh?” Beca’s traditional greeting came through the wood, and Chloe slowly turned the doorknob, opening the door just a crack so she could peer her head around the frame.

 

“You up for TV time?” Beca was sitting in the dark, brow furrowed as she vigorously typed away on her laptop. She’d changed into sweatpants and one of Chloe’s old Bella tank tops, her hair trapped on the back of her head in something hilariously similar to the old Bella uniform buns from four years ago.

 

She slowly swiveled to face Chloe, making eye contact for a second before focusing intently on her nails. “Um, I have a lot of work to do,” Beca mumbled, eyes darting back up to gauge Chloe’s reaction.

 

Chloe responded with a broad smile and pushed further into the room. “OK, first of all, stop leaving the lights off when you’re on your laptop. You’re going to burn your eyes out.” She flipped the switch as Beca squinted, hand shooting up to her neck, but not before Chloe caught sight of the poorly covered hickey right below her jawline. Hiding a smirk, she stepped closer. “C’mon, just because we went out last night doesn’t mean you’re free from requisite post-grad Bella bonding.” Beca was silent. “I’ll even let you do work while we watch. Scout’s honor.”

 

Beca rolled her eyes, adopting her trademark ‘I’m just doing this because Chloe is forcing me’ grin, and unplugged her laptop, following her roommate out into the living room. Chloe took her traditional position on the couch, dipping her shoulder as usual so Beca could comfortably lean against her. Instead, Beca flopped down on the chair adjacent to the couch, readjusting herself for a minute before meeting Chloe’s confused stare.

 

“Work tends to be easier if you don’t have someone flapping their arms in excitement right next to you,” she said, eventually settling with her legs tucked under her body. “So, what’s on the agenda for today?”

 

“I resent that,” Chloe muttered with a pout, turning on the Netflix app on the TV. “OK, so I know you’ve fought me on Buffy for years—“ Beca let out a deep sigh “—but we’ve grown up, matured, and you’re going to shut up and watch it. Besides, there’s a musical episode.”

 

“Every show has a musical episode, Chloe.”

 

“Every show has a musical episode because of Buffy. It’s the OG, Beca.” As the episode loaded, Chloe beamed over at her roommate. “It’s totes musically important.”

 

Beca shook her head. “Totes.”

 

They were fine for a while, and Chloe was thrilled to note that Beca was clearly interested enough by the show to stop doing work, though she did make sure to go back to typing what was surely gibberish every time she caught Chloe staring over. She’d ask questions occasionally, even if she preferred to stick to her own made-up monikers for the characters.

 

It was around Willow and Tara’s song that the tension in the room became palpable. Chloe wasn’t trying to stare over at Beca, but she couldn’t help the fact that the chair she’d bought in her freshman year was old and creaked as Beca shifted throughout the whole number.

 

“You all right there, Becs?” And maybe Chloe did fix her with a bit of a shit-eating grin, but she still considered herself a very patient woman, overall, on average.

 

“Yeah, sorry.” Beca was uncharacteristically wide-eyed, glancing back and forth between Chloe and the TV. “It’s interesting scoring, y’know?”

 

She couldn’t help herself as the wink came out, and she swore Beca’s eyes darted from her eyes to her lips before the furious laptop tapping continued.

 

 The episode ended, and Chloe turned to her roommate with an expectant grin. “So?”

 

“OG, huh?” Chloe nodded vigorously. “It wasn’t…awful.”

 

Beca had her own particular scale of rating movies and TV shows. _Twilight_ had earned a silent, frustrated headshake, punctuated by a scoff every time Chloe brought up Taylor Lautner’s abs. _The Devil Wears Prada_ was deemed “eh,” with specific appreciation for Emily Blunt’s performance (big surprise from Beca the walking entity of snark). “Not awful” was probably the best that she’d gotten so far.

 

“I’m glad I didn’t waste your time _too_ horribly,” Chloe replied, padding across the room over to the sink. “Water?”

 

“Yeah, thanks,” Beca called as she dropped her head back against the chair. “God, I don’t think this hangover is ever going away.”

 

Chloe silently handed her the water before perching on the arm of the couch next to her, eyes raking across Beca’s face in search of some sort of indication of recognition or anything at all. As Beca pointedly avoided eye contact, Chloe decided to switch tactics. “I mean, with how much you drank, it’s amazing you didn’t lose anything.”

 

Chloe’s remark was delivered just as Beca had taken a particularly long sip from her glass, resulting in Beca spitting a mouthful of water across the room as her eyes bugged out. Immediately seized with regret, Chloe ran behind Beca and started smacking her on her back until the brunette grabbed her wrist, wheezing as she slowly sat back up.

 

Beca’s thumb over Chloe’s tattoo, Chloe held her roommate’s gaze for a long moment, eyebrow cocked as she waited for any sort of response. Beca finally dropped Chloe’s wrist slowly before taking another sip. “Sorry, what was that?”

 

And here they were again. “I mean, just in the time I’ve known you, you’ve lost three wallets and two different phones when we were out,” Chloe began slowly. “And I—“

 

“Not in a while. I’ve had this same wallet for…three months.”

 

“A new record,” Chloe remarked. “But.” Chloe waited for something to come out of her mouth, anything from ‘I have your bra’ to ‘I’ve been in love with you for four years and I think you might like me too but I don’t know so please say something.’ Instead, she fixed Beca with a look that she’d given her time and time again, from that first time in the shower to countless performances to that tent in the retreat.

 

And at first, Beca responded in the same way she had for most of their friendship. She let a slight grin dance across her lips as she met Chloe’s gaze before busying herself with any other activity; simple, easy, painful. But she didn’t quite make it to the final step, eyes ranging across Chloe’s face as if she was searching for an answer herself.

 

Chloe realized they’d been gawking at each other like dumb birds for near a minute when Beca dropped her eyes and began massaging a kink out of her neck. Normally, this was Chloe’s job, and another Sunday afternoon fixture, but Chloe figured it was best to allow for a bit of space. Thinking on it as she went to refill Beca’s cup, she wondered if it had been some sort of invitation that she’d completely missed.

 

“Yeah, so.” Beca was standing up, laptop under her arm as Chloe turned back around. “How’s your head?”

 

“A bit hazy,” Chloe said. “But you know me, I tend to come back pretty well after tequila.”

 

Beca’s half-smile was so brief that she almost missed it as the brunette turned towards her room, but Chloe’s heart still performed its traditional ‘Beca Mitchell just smiled at you’ fluttering pattern as Beca’s door closed behind her.

 

She slumped down onto the counter, Beca’s water still in her hand, a distinct memory in her head of the cab ride where Beca had muttered something about ‘having her for breakfast on their counter’ the next morning. Chloe’s thought process had never been particularly clear where Beca was concerned, and knowledge of talented DJ hands did not help in any way, shape, or form.

 

It was time to call in the reinforcements.

* * *

Stacie had said for years that she was all for ‘you two crazy kids’ to get together. At first, Chloe hadn’t made her feelings explicitly clear, but the girl was significantly smarter than most people gave her credit for. Her emotional intelligence was pretty much unparalleled, as Chloe had discovered during a drunken sit-down on the poolside after a Treble party during her second senior year.

 

After Beca had left with Jesse, Chloe had filled her signature yellow cup with its fourth serving of Jiggle Juice for the night and challenged Stacie to a dance-off that had ended when the redhead twerked back a bit too far and knocked over the Tiki stand. Stacie had wrapped her arm around Chloe’s shoulders and guided her to the far side of the pool, where she had listened as Chloe rambled on about the extreme stress of her Russian Lit class and her concern about a particular dance move because ‘we really need to get someone around Beca’s height but honestly that’s going to be challenging because who else is really that tiny and adorable Stacie do you know anyone.’

 

Stacie nodded throughout all of this, forcing Chloe to punctuate every sentence with a sip of water as the party died down around them. When Chloe had finished her third dissertation on precisely why Beyonce was so important to the fate of America, Stacie chose to cut her off. “So when are you going to tell me what this is actually about?”

 

“What what is all about?”

 

“You’re not exactly subtle, Red,” Stacie said with a chuckle. “I think there’s actually a precise formula calculating the time between when Beca goes off with Jesse and when you board the hot mess express.”

 

“Well, I don’t know about the _mess_ part,” Chloe managed with a wink that likely lost much of its effect due to the fact that she was currently struggling to keep her eyes open.

 

“Uh uh. You’re not flirting your way out of this one.” Stacie shoved Chloe’s water at her again. “You two spend half of rehearsal undressing each other with your eyes, you can’t keep your hands off while dancing—“

 

“—You and Cynthia Rose—“

 

“Cynthia Rose has a long term girlfriend and we’re just friends. Don’t interrupt me.” Chloe’s pout did nothing to shake the amused expression on the other Bella’s face. “Didn’t we already go over the ‘no flirting’ policy?”

 

“Would’ve worked on Beca.” It was out of Chloe’s mouth before she could stop it, and she might have been able to play it off if her drunken brain hadn’t caused her to clap her hands over her mouth in terror.

 

The amused expression evolved to a full-on shit-eating grin as Stacie gave Chloe’s shoulder a light squeeze. “The first step is admitting that you have a problem.”

 

Chloe sighed. “It’s not a…problem. It’s a—“

 

“Full-on, obvious lady toner for Beca Mitchell. Dude, I get it,” Stacie said. “And it’s not exactly one-sided.”

 

Chloe’s stomach flipped as she forced herself to pause with a slow sip of water. “Did she…did she say something to you?”

 

“No.” And that familiar tight throat feeling returned. “But you love everyone. You look at the world like nothing can really go wrong, and find a way to see the bright side of everything. Beca doesn’t. Beca looks like a cross between a scared squirrel and a pissed-off porcupine around just about everyone. I’ve only ever seen her look at one person like the sun shines out of their ass, and it’s you. If anything, it was almost harder to figure you out than her.” 

 

And somewhere, Chloe knew this was true. She’d seen Beca walking across campus, headphones jammed securely over her head, shoulders up and forwards with her arms folded across her chest, glaring at the world with enough ferocity that more than one bike rider had crashed into a tree to get out of her path. But Chloe could give her shoulder massages, get her to interact with people with something other than automatic distrust, and had even dragged her into a pillow fight set to a background of Carly Rae Jepsen. Chloe wasn’t dumb; she’d noticed there was a difference between how Beca acted around her and others, but she’d thought maybe it was more than slightly influenced by her own hope.

 

So Stacie had become the first person beyond Aubrey who Chloe had opened up to about Beca. They’d sat there until three AM, words spilling out of Chloe’s mouth in a jumbled stream, only interrupted as Stacie occasionally dipped into the Treble house to refill Chloe’s water cup. After a minute of silence, Stacie let out a deep sigh.

 

“So. You really had to pick the most oblivious, guarded little idiot from the bunch, didn’t you?”

 

Chloe laughed, shaking her head. “I’m just that good.”

 

“Well, the good thing is that there’s no way in hell she and Jesse last past graduation. The rest of us actually have a bet going on when they break up. My money’s on the summer before senior year, but Amy’s thinking it’ll be when he finally accepts his undying love for Benji after graduation.”

 

“Now that would be an amusing couple,” Chloe said, eyes ranging across the pool as a Treble, seemingly having just woken up, crawled out of the bushes and wandered his way into the house.

 

“Regardless. I’ve decided to be your fairy godmother. Or do I say gaymother?” Stacie cackled at Chloe’s responding eye roll. “See, she’s already rubbing off on you.”

 

After that, the next two years had been spent with monthly talks to this effect. Stacie had been correct about Beca and Jesse’s break-up, eventually leading to her putting Amy in a chokehold as she refused to pay, screaming something about ‘true love and how the magic of acapella would overcome all.’ When Beca had announced that she and Chloe would be living together in their group text, Chloe had immediately received a long stream of suggestive emojis from Stacie and a request for bi (and yet another winky face) weekly updates on the situation.

 

And so when Stacie picked up the phone, Chloe couldn’t stop from blurting it out. “I slept with Beca.”

 

The “WHAT” in response was screamed with such force that Chloe immediately jumped up from her bed to close her door as Stacie continued to shriek on the other side of the line. After a minute of high-pitched nonsense that made Chloe doubt Stacie’s placement in the ensemble as a Mezzo rather than a Soprano, she cautiously returned the phone to her ear.

 

“Details. Now,” Stacie gasped out.

 

“We went to a club, danced, and then she asked me if I ‘wanted to get out of there.’”

 

More gibberish followed, forcing a smile to Chloe’s lips. It felt good to say it out loud, only if to make it feel that much more real, and she was certainly not going to go to Aubrey with this first.

 

“And? Don’t leave me hanging here, Beale.”

 

“What do you think?” Chloe mumbled.

 

“With how slowly you’ve moved so far, you could’ve gone and gotten froyo for all I know,” Stacie replied, struggling to hold in another burst of laughter. “So? DJ dexterity all it’s cracked up to be?”

 

“I’m not telling you that!”

 

“I told you about that time with Lilly—“

 

“—and it scarred me for life! Completely unasked for, by the way.” Chloe sighed.

 

“OK, so what’s the problem?”

 

Chloe bit her lip, struggling over proper phrasing. “She says she doesn’t remember.”

 

She could almost hear Stacie’s incredulous eyebrow raise through the phone. “And you don’t believe her?”

 

“I have her bra,” Chloe whispered.

 

“You _what?_ ”

 

“I have her bra.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“And I’m 90% sure I woke up because she tripped over something and went sprinting out of the room.”

 

A distinctly indelicate snort. “Well, you were always the more coordinated out of the two of you.”

 

“You’re hilarious. Tell me something useful.”

 

Stacie was silent for a moment, leaving Chloe with a chance to look around her room and discover her own shirt from last night, thrown underneath her desk by a very impatient Beca.

 

“If I know Beca Mitchell,” Stacie began. “And I’d hope I do after four years, she’s gonna need a bit of a push.”

 

“Meaning?”

 

“Hey, I can’t do everything for you.” Chloe’s indignant whine was cut off as Stacie cleared her throat. “I mean, you could sack up and tell her that you know or something?”

 

It was a statement similar to many that Stacie had made over the past couple of years. It was the most logical and mature thing to do, and Chloe knew it, but she also had more than her fair share of battle scars. When you put that much of yourself out into the world on a daily basis, some people are going to take advantage of it. Beca would never do anything purposefully to hurt her, but after four years of hope without result, even an optimist develops some concerns.

 

“Stace, I—“

 

“Yeah, I know.” Stacie clicked her tongue. “I mean, you could also be totally immature and obtuse. Beca seems to do well with that.”

 

And, strangely enough, Chloe knew exactly what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exposition. A necessary evil. But I promise these idiots will be making moves soon enough. If you also have excess Bechloe feels, come say hi at my Tumblr trashpile at bicamitchell. 
> 
>  
> 
> Explanation in case anyone hasn’t seen the BTVS musical episode (and God I’m getting old): Tara and Willow do the do. That is all.


	3. Talking Body

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe Beale has a bit of an immature side on occasion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we’re back. An alternate title for this chapter would be ‘Beca Mitchell is screwed (or wishes she was).’ As a note, this chapter is a bit shorter than the rest will probably be, mostly because it was originally going to be combined with chapter two, but then we’d have like a 7K chapter and I wasn’t sure how people would feel about that. When it’s all said and done, I might go back and edit and find a way to knock it down to four chapters. But who knows. Enjoy.

Most of the week passed without incident. Beca guessed Chloe hadn’t found her bra, or had somehow assumed it was her own, because she carried on pretty much in her normal fashion. This did not make it particularly easy for Beca. Chloe Beale had always been a physically affectionate friend, and it wasn’t out of character for her to lean up against Beca while watching movies, every so often slipping an arm around her waist, or to hold her hand as they walked together. They’d often fall asleep together in one of their beds while in the middle of a Netflix marathon, after which Beca would wake up with Chloe pressed against her back, breath slow and even.

 

It had taken some time for Beca to get used to this level of friendly contact, but it all seemed par for the course at this point. And it had been fine, before Beca knew exactly what Chloe could do with her hands. A friendly shoulder squeeze after which her fingers whispered over the back of Beca’s neck was no longer innocent after Beca had seen stars as those same fingers had traveled across her stomach. A light kiss on the cheek brought back memories of slow, agonizing kisses up her thighs that had left her breath hitching in her chest. And a hug from behind as Beca made dinner only reminded her of the club, all hips and hands and longing.

 

If anything, Chloe had stepped up in this area, a fact that Beca took as confirmation that she remembered nothing. She’d been unsure on Sunday, as Chloe had uncharacteristically refrained from commenting when Beca chose the stupidly uncomfortable chair for their afternoon TV session and didn’t offer to give her a neck massage. It had been for self-preservation at that point as Beca tried to figure out what to do about the fact that she’d slept with her best friend. More than that, she’d slept with her best friend and was pretty damn sure she wanted to do it again.

 

But Beca was not the sort to admit something like that, and if Chloe really didn’t remember, she didn’t want to force her into anything. Beca was aware that their friendship wasn’t completely typical. Maybe it was destined to be that way, because how normal can you get when your first one-on-one encounter is singing a naked duet together? And yeah, they’d shared some not completely one-sided glances over the years, but Chloe had never said a word. There were times when something else was behind those bright blue eyes, and Beca could think of four separate occasions when Chloe opened her mouth for an instant, only to seemingly think better of whatever she was going to say, settling on a wink and a joke.

 

Plus Chloe knew Beca better than anyone. Therefore, Beca reasoned, if Chloe had wanted anything to happen or would be open to whatever else more, she either would have made a move or said something, because she knew that, even after four years, Beca Mitchell had walls. It would be silly to expect her to say anything and put herself out there…right?

 

So Beca came home from work that Monday, only to find Chloe, hands down on her yoga mat, body perpendicular to the floor. At that moment, Beca was unsure whether to curse or thank Lululemon for making tight tank tops as Chloe’s defined abdominals rose and fell with her breath. When she finally opened her eyes, Beca was standing frozen at the door, keys still in the lock and face burning. Maybe her mouth was a little agape too, but it couldn’t be that obvious.

 

“Hey, Becs.” It was the most nonchalant tone Beca had ever heard from anyone in a headstand. Chloe slowly lowered her legs forwards to the ground, biceps flexing as she went. Letting out a long sigh, she stood up, stretching her arms over her head before turning back around. “How was your day?”

 

“Um. Super great,” Beca eventually managed, pulling her keys from the door and taking the second away from Chloe’s spandex-clad body to collect her thoughts. “You?”

 

“Y’know, danced a bit.” Chloe made her way to the kitchen, pausing to lean in towards Beca as she passed. “You smell good.”

 

“You always smell good,” Beca blurted out as Chloe’s fingers brushed over her cheekbone, delicately tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

 

The redhead responded only with a quick wink, turning to hop on the edge of the counter as Beca unsuccessfully searched her mind for anything she could say to make that comment even remotely normal.

 

“Anything new?” She leaned on the back of the couch, dropping her bag in front of her feet, perhaps as a method by which she could hold herself back from acting out the various yoga-fueled fantasies that were running through her mind.

 

Chloe yawned, tongue darting out to lick her lips as she closed her mouth. “I might get to pick up a few more classes,” she said. “Less quality roommate time, though. I barely see you as it is.”

 

“I’m not surprised.” Chloe quirked an eyebrow. “I mean, you always did know how to move well.” And clearly the bag barrier was not enough. The last time Beca had felt this flustered in a conversation had led her to blurting out something about being ‘very sexually confused’ by their top Worlds competition, and it was an experience which she’d vowed to avoid in the future. Keeping her eyes squarely on the floor, she picked up her purse and escaped to her room, muttering about a headache as she passed. Closing the door behind her, she made direct eye contact with Chloe as she stretched down to her toes, providing Beca with a clear view of the red marks she’d left down her chest. 

* * *

 

The only logical move after this encounter was to take on extra shifts at the studio. If, she reasoned, she could just stay late enough, maybe Chloe would be asleep by the time she got home. On top of this, it never looked bad to be the hardest worker at your new job.

 

And it worked for a couple of days, until her boss threatened to physically pick her up and carry her to her car if she did not take a break. Beca made it in through the door and into her room without a problem, figuring that Chloe must’ve taken an extra class on that night, because she very rarely spent time alone in her room, even if she was the only one in the apartment.

 

“Well, not like I haven’t before, but it’s always nice to see.” It was of course at the precise instant that Beca had pulled her shirt over her head that Chloe chose to enter the room. Torn between whether it was more awkward to just stop changing or to follow through and grab the nearest shirt she could find, Beca slowly turned to face her roommate, arms still suspended over her head.

 

“Need some help there?” Beca saw Chloe take a step forwards through the sheer fabric of her top. Deciding to bite the bullet, she flung it over her head, leaving her standing in her bra with only a few feet of separation between her and her roommate.

 

Beca’s death by spandex seemed to be at least delayed, as Chloe stood before her in a pair of sweatpants and a loose tshirt, stolen from some old boyfriend. Grateful for small graces, Beca turned back around and pulled one of her own oversized shirts from her dresser, throwing it on as she wondered how exactly to handle the fact that she was still in her work skirt.

 

Chloe seemed to have no plans to leave, as she was leaning against Beca’s wall, chewing on her bottom lip when the brunette turned back around. They regarded each other in silence for a moment before Chloe’s eyes dropped to Beca’s skirt and heels. “Is this a new fashion trend in the music world that I haven’t heard about?”

 

“You know me, always at the fashion forefront,” Beca said with a weak laugh. “Um, what’s up?”

 

“Just saying hi,” Chloe answered breezily, adopting an overly innocent expression. “But if you did have a minute, I could use your help.”

 

Every ounce of Beca’s brain was telling her to invent any excuse, even to grab her blazer and come up with some studio event that she’d forgotten, just to get the hell out of the apartment. But Chloe stood there so harmlessly, eyes wide and that always hopeful smile on her face. Beca had never been good at turning her friend down for anything even before the events of the previous weekend, and no matter how hard she tried, she heard herself promise to meet Chloe in the living room in a minute.

 

The problem was no longer just the physical contact. Rather, it was that Beca felt herself almost slip every time she was within Chloe’s earshot, some part of her begging to scream out that she remembered everything, that she needed Chloe and that she prayed that Chloe needed her just as much. But Beca didn’t make friends easily, and in her head, she could imagine a gentle, understanding smile, paired with sad pity in blue eyes, apologies spilling from Chloe’s lips because that was just who she was. There would always be that pity there, and Beca couldn’t live with that. So she slowly pulled on a pair of athletic shorts, pushed her hair back into a ponytail, and took a deep breath before rounding the doorway.

 

Chloe was standing by their iPod speaker dock, scrolling through her plugged-in phone as she hummed to herself. When Beca drew close, she turned around, beaming. “I’m glad you got home early,” she said. “I swear you’ve been avoiding me or something all week.”

 

“Why would I do that?” Beca’s question hung in the air like a challenge. Chloe’s eyebrows shot up and the two girls stood there frozen, taking turns peering and searching each other’s faces for some sort of indication of anything.

 

Her jaw working, Chloe turned back to the dock, hair falling to cover her face from Beca’s view. “I wouldn’t know,” she murmured before tipping her head back over her shoulder. “It’s not always easy to tell what you’re thinking, Becs.” She stepped back from the dock with the remote in hand, cracking her neck as she went.

 

It was at the point that she leaned down, taking her sweatpants with her, that Beca began to seriously reexamine her choices. Legs that seemed impossibly long, tanned, and toned fell below spandex shorts that Beca didn’t even dare to let her eyes go near. And Chloe’s head tilted to face her as she wrapped her fingers around her toes, an all-too-knowing smirk across her face.

 

When she hit the play button on the remote, there was no doubt in Beca’s mind that Chloe Beale knew exactly what had happened on Saturday night. 

* * *

 

Chloe knew that she had an innocent face in general. Yes, she was a notorious flirt, but it was all in good fun, and Aubrey had once defined her default expression as ‘sunshine, puppies, and rainbows all rolled into one.’ This face had, she believed, been part of what had allowed even the shut-off Beca Mitchell to reveal such scandalous secrets as the fact that she truly did enjoy Taylor Swift on occasion.

 

And so she’d simply asked her roommate for a favor, because yes, Chloe had choreographed the vast majority of the Bella routines for the past three years, but Beca had certainly helped, and she’d truly appreciate an informed opinion on a quick routine. Besides, Beca knew it was one of her favorite songs, so surely she’d be willing to contribute. If it furthered Chloe’s current (admittedly immature) plans, all the better.

 

Stacie’s reaction to Chloe’s idea had been equal parts ‘did not think you had that in you,’ ‘Beca is actually going to die,’ and ‘I am a proud fairy gaymother.’ But there was only so patient that even Chloe Beale could be. She was a singer, not a saint (she’d gotten a particularly pained groan out of Stacie for that one).

 

If she’d needed any further confirmation that Beca had full knowledge of what she’d left next to Chloe’s hipbone tattoo, she’d gotten it as the brunette had completely lost her verbal filter that Monday night. And she’d watched as Beca’s eyes locked upon the line of marks down her collarbone, recognition unable to be masked as her mouth had dropped open.

 

There had been a slight hitch in the plan as Beca spent the next two days working impossibly long hours, but Chloe was nothing if not resourceful, and simply prepared for her opportunity. And honestly, it was a bit hilarious to watch as it unfolded.

 

The second ‘Trap Queen’ had started, Beca had let out an almost inaudible squeak. And at this point, as Chloe folded herself into as compromising a position as she could manage, all of the week’s work had culminated in reducing Beca to an agape, wide-eyed wreck. Her hands gripped the edge of the counter, bottom lip trapped between her teeth as she struggled to find the most appropriate place to look. Her face was as red as it’d been the time she’d managed to drag Beca on a run when they’d first gotten here, ending with Beca clinging for dear life to a telephone pole at the top of a hill.

 

Her oversized shirt was performing admirably, Chloe noted, falling wide open just enough to provide Beca with a view of her own handiwork. The shorts hadn’t even been a question, as she’d figured out that Beca had a weakness for spandex when Chloe had returned from a run two summers ago, wearing nothing but Nike Pro Combat shorts and a sports bra. On that particular occasion, Beca had managed to trip over two chairs and a stool as she entered the kitchen where Chloe was toweling off her face.

 

“But, you know, it’s just a start.” Chloe abruptly stopped the music, dropping into a lazy backbend on the floor behind her. Beca shook her head as if coming out of a daze, rubbing her hands over her eyes with seemingly no regard for the fact that her work makeup was still on. “Any thoughts?”

 

“Plenty,” Beca muttered through gritted teeth. Chloe bit back a laugh, instead adopting a quizzical expression.

 

“Sorry, what?”

 

Beca’s jaw clenched, and her gaze locked onto Chloe’s own with an undeniable preciseness. “What were you going for, exactly?”

 

“I don’t know.” The innocent beam returned. “It’s just a great song. It really builds.”

 

Beca scoffed, closing her eyes and shaking her head. “New lady jam?”

 

“It could be. But.”

 

“I don’t know, Chlo,” Beca said, meeting Chloe’s eyes once again. “You’re the expert.” She rested her elbows on the counter, head dropping down as she let out a sharp exhale.

 

Chloe came up behind Beca, placing a hand softly on her shoulder. Beca remained fixated on the counter, and Chloe could feel the head radiating off her flushed skin. “You seem stressed.”

 

Beca slowly rotated her body to face Chloe, locking her hands firmly onto the edge of the counter. “It’s been one hell of a week,” she said, voice breaking as Chloe’s hand traveled up to her face.

 

Bright blue eyes meeting dark, Chloe brushed her thumb underneath Beca’s lower eyelashes. Holding eye contact, she grinned. “You had a bit of makeup.” With that, she slowly left the room, carefully exaggerating her hips’ movements as she went. 

* * *

 

As if in a trance, Beca released her grip, needles flitting through her fingers as she felt the results of the hold she’d had on the counter’s edge. Her breath slowly returned to normal as she closed her room’s door behind her, dropping onto her bed with a soft string of curses.

 

 _Alright, if this is how we’re gonna play it_. Beca pulled out her phone, dialing a long un-used number. At the answer on the other line, she allowed a half-smile to cross her face.

 

“Hey. Any chance you’re in town this weekend?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nerds. Giant, wimpy, dorky nerds. It takes a truly special individual to essentially get a lap dance from someone who looks like Chloe Beale and decide that the most logical


	4. Wicked Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beca’s version of bringing in reinforcements is a bit different from Chloe’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, for some reason, I see Chloe as likely being a very jealous person. Though, honestly, who wouldn’t be a bit jealous with Beca Mitchell involved?

Chloe woke up on Friday morning to the smell of breakfast. When they’d first moved in, anything being cooked without a very conscious Chloe would have likely resulted in the apartment burning to the ground, but after two months, she’d found that even badass Beca Mitchell could manage scrambled eggs. Rubbing sleep from her eyes, Chloe rounded the corner to the kitchen to find Beca, looking the perkiest she’d ever seen her before 8 AM.

 

“Morning!” Beca shot Chloe an almost alarmingly wide smile, turning back to the stove. Chloe confirmed that this was, in fact, Beca Mitchell, when she attempted to nonchalantly flip the eggs in the pan and sent them flying onto the countertop next to her. Chloe took a step forward, apologetic half-grin on her lips.

 

Beca, meeting her eyes, recoiled slightly before plastering glee back onto her face and maneuvering the eggs onto a nearby plate with the help of the spatula and a wooden spoon. Turning back to Chloe, she handed it to her.

 

“What’s the occasion?” Chloe took the dish, reflexively holding it up to her nose as she always did whenever Beca attempted to cook.

 

Busying herself with the dishes, Beca shrugged. “Can’t a girl just cook for her roomie when she feels like it?” Grinning, she looked back up. “Post-grad Bella bonding.”

 

Chloe tested the eggs, finding them surprisingly tasty despite the slight hint of countertop. “Well, thanks,” she mumbled over a mouthful of food. “You’re up surprisingly early.”

 

“Yeah,” Beca said. “Wanted to try and get to work early so I could leave at a decent hour.”

 

The redhead struggled to swallow a chunk of what she hoped was cheese. “Any reason why?”

 

“Eh.” Beca switched to a dishtowel, attending to every speck on the pan. While Chloe did appreciate Beca taking an interest in their cookware for once, she couldn’t help but feel that something was coming. “I had some plans later.”

 

And sometimes she really did hate when she was right. Chloe slowly placed the plate back on the counter, staring at the back of Beca’s head until the brunette met her gaze with the same shit-eating grin as before. “Plans?”

 

“Yeah.” She took Chloe’s plate, scraping the rest of the food into the garbage. “Someone I know is coming into town for a couple of nights. Thought I’d show her a good time.”

 

“Someone from the label?”

 

“Nah,” Beca replied innocently. “Just Luisa.” Catching sight of Chloe’s quirked brow, she bit her lip.

 

The fact that Beca wasn’t coming right out with any explanation could not mean anything good. Unsure whether it was due to the anticipation or that thing that her stomach did whenever Beca bit her lip, Chloe cleared her throat before walking around the counter to reach out for the freshly dried plate in her roommate’s hands.

 

Glancing between Chloe’s eyes, Beca slowly handed over the dish, freezing when their hands met. “You remember Kommissar?”

 

It was a small miracle that Beca still had her grip on the plate. Chloe’s eyes snapped wide as Beca’s other hand managed to steady the cheap china as it wobbled. Hair obscuring her face, she stretched her arms to reach the cabinet as Chloe’s mouth fell open and closed at her side.

 

“Kommissar?” The voice coming out of Chloe’s mouth was barely even familiar, tight and weak as it had been right after she’d had the surgery on her nodes. “Like DSM Kommissar? Like almost caused the end of the Bellas as we know it Kommissar?”

 

“Yeah.” It was simple and brief, and Beca rounded the counter to the chair where she’d left her bag. “She’s looking at grad schools or something. Doesn’t really know a lot of other people in the area.”

 

“I didn’t even know you had her number,” Chloe muttered. Beca only hummed in response, attention seemingly occupied by her phone. “So is she going to be staying with us tonight then?”

 

“Well, it wasn’t my _plan_.” It was a precise combination of emphasis and nonchalance that caught Chloe alarmingly off-guard. “I just thought we’d grab a few drinks. Maybe catch up. Jeff told me about this amazing new club with a DJ he was thinking of signing, so I could even write it off as expenses.”

 

Chloe nodded, tight-lipped and surely embarrassingly flushed. “That sounds like fun,” she shot back, prompting Beca to slip her phone into her jacket pocket, a sweet smile playing on her lips.

 

“You could join if you wanted.” Chloe blinked. “I know she’s not your favorite, but time heals all wounds, right?”

 

While hanging out with Kommissar, or Luisa apparently, was about as far as possible from Chloe’s original itinerary for the night, she had distinct memories burned into her mind from Beca’s last encounters with the DSM frontwoman. Having to drag away the girl you’re in love with from almost physically mounting the largest threat to the other people you care most about in the world doesn’t get easily forgotten.

 

Beca searched Chloe’s face in silence for a few moments before the redhead broke into an easy, beaming smile. “You know what they say. Three’s a party.” Before Beca could respond, and more importantly before Chloe could say anything else and shatter her carefully crafted image of what she hoped came off as disinterest, Chloe left the room with nothing but a wink in tow.

* * *

“Aren’t you a bit small to be on your fifth cup of coffee?” Jeff had a point. Most of the time, Beca managed to get through the day on carefully crafted focus, and, as Chloe put it, ‘a desire to work hard enough to get revenge on existence itself.’ Coffee was something normally reserved for 1 AM studio sessions that were going to last for another hour or two, but Beca figured that since it had helped her focus in those situations, it obviously would work the same way now.

 

This was not an accurate guess. Her brain sure as hell was not on work, likely due to the combination of highly concentrated caffeine in her bloodstream, apprehension regarding the vitality of her verbal filter tonight, and the Snapchats that Chloe was sending her on a near-regular basis. They were relatively innocuous, or as innocuous as Chloe’s Snaps could be. It wasn’t her fault that those piercing blue eyes made color rise to Beca’s face or that sometimes her cleavage would just happen to slip in (okay, so maybe that was purposeful).

 

Beca shrugged, slipping past her boss to reach for the sugar. “Just trying to be as efficient as possible,” she said.

 

“I see.” Jeff stepped back, regarding her with a genuinely concerned gaze. “You feeling all right?” Seemingly accepting the brunette’s respondent half-smile and nod, he sighed. “OK. So you’re scouting Matt Grace tonight, right?”

 

“Uh huh.” She slowly sipped her coffee, face scrunching at the unfamiliar bitterness. “Thank you for letting me, by the way.”

 

“You have a good ear,” Jeff replied. “Plus you’re kind of low man on the totem pole right now, and I don’t feel like getting yet another earful about kids or ‘work-life balance’ or some bullshit when I’m just gonna find Instagram pics with #bottleservice or something the next morning.”

 

“No bottle service here,” Beca said, drawing her hands across her chest in some strange approximation of both the Boy Scouts symbol and the Mockingjay sign.

 

Jeff scoffed. “Good. Don’t go too crazy, expenses and all. Six drink maximum, all right, Mitchell?” Grabbing a soda from the fridge, he strode off, shouting something about nudity in the office as one of the interns passed by.

 

Beca dumped her coffee and settled for a glass of water, hands shaking as she returned to her desk. Her phone screen lit up, notifying her of three Snapchats from ‘jiggleginge,’ a missed call from her mother, and two texts from Luisa. For the first time in Beca’s adult life, she considered returning her mother’s call the most attractive option.

 

Chloe’s Snaps were relatively tame; one picture of iced coffee with ‘the only missing part of breakfast’ appended to it, one picture of her running shoes sitting on top of a hill, and a final one of a sandwich with ’10-mile reward’ below it (still likely stupidly healthy, knowing Chloe). Beca couldn’t help but smile. Maybe she was a bit annoyed at Chloe for starting this stupid game in which they were currently engaged, but a week of avoiding her had left Beca with a bit of an empty feeling in her stomach. Two months of living with Chloe Beale, and she already couldn’t go a week without hanging on her every word.

 

The texts from Luisa were short and to the point. The two had exchanged numbers at the Worlds after-party, the German Valkyrie having come over to Beca as she nursed her fourth rum and coke, eyes boring into the almost offensively muscular member of the Italian team whose hands were currently directing Chloe’s hips. Luisa had followed Beca’s line of sight, smirked, and tapped the Bella on the shoulder. By the end of the conversation, Beca had embarrassed herself no less than four times, but came away with Kommissar’s real name, number, and a request to “keep in touch.”

 

So they’d texted a bit, but hadn’t spoken in over a month. Luisa was not one to waste words, and Beca was essentially hopeless at maintaining communication unless the other person reached out to her first. Honestly, Beca had been shocked that the German had even picked up when she’d called. She knew she was going to be in town from the Instagram that she certainly hadn’t followed right after the auto show, and hell, if anyone was going to get into Chloe’s head and prompt some sort of response, it was Luisa.

 

They agreed to meet at the club at ten, and Beca spent the rest of the day absorbed in final edits on the EP of Jeff’s latest pet project. At six, she dropped the file onto the office’s iCloud server, grabbed her jacket, and spent the next hour cursing LA traffic and attempting to mentally combine Beyonce, Taylor Swift, and Nicki Minaj in order to settle a bet with Chloe.

 

Cautiously stepping through the door at 7:04, Beca was greeted with by her roommate and a plate of pasta. “I figured I might as well pay you back for this morning.”

 

Beca slowly nodded her thanks, dropping her bag on the floor as Chloe reached over her to shut the door. “Did you make this just for me?”

 

“Nope,” Chloe said with a chuckle. “I already ate. Not that I wouldn’t, though.” She yawned and rolled her neck as Beca sat and began to eat. “I’m gonna go take a shower. Don’t want to be late for our night with the Kommissar.”

 

Beca’s eyes stayed locked onto her plate as she heard Chloe pass back by her on the way to the bathroom. Her confidence with ‘all this’ had not diminished since Beca’s freshman year, and it wasn’t completely uncommon for her to cross the living space _au naturel._ She did not need that image right now. The post-Bella months certainly hadn’t hurt Chloe’s voice either; Halsey’s ‘Ghost’ floated through the cracked-open door, surrounding Beca with that oh-so-familiar haze she’d felt over and over in rehearsals and performances.

 

She returned to her room after Chloe had made it through half of ‘1989,’ and was scrutinizing her closet when her door opened.

 

“Hey Becs?” Chloe, thankfully wrapped in a towel, stood with wet hair piled on her head, dripping onto Beca’s carpet. “What time are we leaving?”

 

Beca only allowed herself a quick glance at her roommate before returning to her wardrobe. “I told Luisa we’d be there at 10, so like 9:30ish?”

 

“Kay.” There was silence for a moment, but Beca could feel Chloe’s presence still filling the room. “You should go with the black dress. The one you wore on your 21st?”

 

“You mean the one you forced me into?”

 

“I don’t regret that decision at all.” Beca gave up and looked over at her. “You looked hot.”

 

At this point, she was really going to have to get a tan to cover up the redness in her face if this was going to go on much longer. Chloe’s face was so painfully earnest as Beca slowly returned her grin. “I mean, if I have to,” she groaned.

 

“Heels too. Unless you’ve forgotten how tall the German is.” Chloe returned to the bathroom, closing Beca’s door behind her. Beca exhaled sharply, running her fingers through her hair before turning on an old mix that she’d made back in freshman year. Anything to fill her mind with something other than Chloe.

* * *

Other than a near-death experience with her curling iron, Chloe’s preparation process had gone off without a hitch. Years of getting ready for a capella competitions, surrounded by nine other screaming girls fighting for a limited number of mirrors, had made her efficient and precise in her routine. Besides, it was game time. Operation ‘You Go First,’ as Stacie had named it, was in full force, and she’d be damned if this all got messed up by some German _dummkopf_.

 

Honestly, she was past any concern that Beca regretted it. At this point, the crushing fear in her stomach was wholly due to the very realistic possibility that cool, unaffected, unattached Beca Mitchell saw it as nothing but a convenient hookup. Chloe had done friends with benefits; it’s really all you can do to distract yourself when you’re in love with someone who doesn’t love you back. And it would hurt more than Chloe could handle to open her mouth first, unable to hold back every sentiment she’d swallowed for four years, only to have Beca bite her lip, shrug, and talk about how ‘fun’ it had been. She couldn’t risk speaking first, not if she wanted to keep her heart even slightly intact.

 

Highest pair of heels strapped onto her feet (can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em), Chloe entered the kitchen, and had just poured herself a drink from the recently mixed pitcher when Beca entered.

 

It took all of her self-restraint to not let her jaw drop. Yeah, Beca was always gorgeous, but the way that the dress clung to every curve and angle of her body, plunging dangerously close to her navel, combined with the heels that definitely didn’t draw attention to her ass, made Chloe immensely thankful for her previous suggestion. Chloe’s favorite Beca was the one she saw on Sundays, soft and relaxed and happy, but damn if this one wasn’t giving her a run for her money.

 

She noted, gratefully, that her own outfit hadn’t been lost on Beca. The younger girl had always been a bit more obvious with her appreciation, but she literally froze mid-step as she looked up at the sound of Chloe’s heels as she walked towards her, cup in hand.

 

“Thanks,” Beca said, Chloe grabbing her own drink off the counter as she pretended to not feel Beca’s eyes roaming up and down her body. “Wait, is this Jiggle Juice?”

 

Chloe bit her lip, mischievous gleam in her eyes. “More like the upgraded version. Jiggle Juice 2.0. 100% less Taaka and more glass bottle stuff. Still as much fun, though.”

 

“Some day, I’m going to find out which Treble taught you the recipe and kick his ass.”

 

“Surprised you wouldn’t thank him,” Chloe replied, taking a sip of the sickeningly sweet drink. Beca raised her eyebrows over the lid of her own cup in response.

 

An hour later, the tingles in Chloe’s body were no longer completely due to shamelessly gawking at Beca’s dress. They were leaned up against the back of couch, both on their third cup of punch, as Beca related the tale of when Amy had visited her at home.

 

“I swear to God, the step-monster’s face as an Abercrombie model wandered out of the guest room was worth the price of Amy’s ticket alone.”

 

Chloe snorted, spitting punch back into her cup and onto the floor. Mortified, she slowly faced Beca, who was struggling to keep her own sip in her mouth. With a deep gulp, Beca doubled over with laughter, grabbing onto Chloe’s arm to steady herself.

 

“Damn, Beale,” she managed eventually. “You really know how to get a girl all hot and bothered.” The warm sensation that started at Beca’s hand spread up Chloe’s arm as Beca closed her eyes and shook her head, lip trapped between her teeth.

 

To save either of them from the toil of having to respond to that statement, Chloe crossed the room and grabbed a paper towel to clean up the drink on the floor. Finishing her punch, Beca let out a yelp as she looked up at the clock on the microwave.

 

“We are beyond late.” Surprisingly strong arms gripped Chloe’s shoulders and pulled her up as she squatted with the paper towel. “Dude, it’s not like we haven’t spilled on the floor before. I will take care of it later.”

 

Amazed by Beca’s ability to move in heels, Chloe watched as her roommate sprinted out the door. “At least she took something away from the original Bellas,” she muttered, dropping the paper towel, grabbing her purse, and following the tiny brunette into whatever awaited them. 

* * *

She could count three separate occasions that night where she’d already fucked up. First, letting Chloe pick her outfit was only going to cause issues at some point, and yeah, she had to admit feeling pretty damn awesome when she’d seen the redhead’s attempts at covering her gaping jaw when she’d entered the room, but Beca was now sitting next to her in the cab, imagining hands ghosting across the expanse on her chest left bare by the dress, roaming over thin material stretched atop her hips.

 

Secondly, she’d let Chloe know that it was Luisa who they’d be meeting, resulting in the ridiculous height competition that seemed to be occurring. She wouldn’t have been too shocked if Chloe had strapped stilts to her legs just to gloat over the German’s head, stilts that still would have managed to make her ass look incredible. Finally, Beca had touched Chloe. It made her feel kind of stupid that she was affected by this so easily, but normal rules didn’t really apply around Chloe.

 

The cab came to a halt in front of a door almost completely obscured by a line stretching beyond view. After a brief argument, Chloe begrudgingly allowed Beca to pay the fare. “I told you it’s expensed, Chlo,” Beca maintained while texting Luisa that they’d arrived.

 

“Just because you have a big, fancy job—“ Beca opened her mouth, only to find Chloe’s hand pressed over it “—does not mean I am not allowed to pull my weight here.”

 

Reflexes kicked in, built up after years of this similar situation, and Beca’s tongue darted out to lick Chloe’s hand before she could think about it. Chloe yelped and pulled her hand away, a joking furrow forming between her eyebrows. “You’re an actual six-year-old,” she said, eyes taking in the line in front of them. “I don’t know if we’re getting in here, Becs.”

 

“ _Please_ have some faith in me,” Beca groaned, dragging Chloe behind her by the arm as she made her way to the bouncer. The label’s name worked like a charm, and Beca took appreciative note of Chloe’s admiring expression.

 

Luisa had texted her back almost immediately, and it wasn’t due in small part to the blonde’s height that she was able to find her in the packed club. “Barden Bellas!” The German’s smirk widened as she shamelessly eyed Beca up and down. Chloe’s existence was not acknowledged.

 

“Trying to recreate old memories?” Beca was uncomfortably reminded of how attractive this woman was, all legs and sharp cheekbones and precise, expressive eyebrows.

 

“There were some between us of which I was particularly fond,” Luisa purred into Beca’s ear. A particularly loud clearing of Chloe’s throat forced the woman to release Beca’s shoulder, turning to face the noise’s source.

 

“Really? The last thing I remembered was the Bellas kicking your ass at worlds.” And Chloe was back to full Bella Commander form, hands on her hips, incredibly dorky exaggerated head movements that Beca still, somehow, managed to find adorable.

 

Luisa stepped forwards slowly, Chloe’s heels clearly paying off as they stood nearly level. “Ah yes. The _rothaarigen Freundin_. I’m surprised you had the…guts to follow tonight.” 

 

“Oh I have plenty of guts. And more.” Beca was relatively sure that she was witnessing a display vastly similar to her own Luisa-induced word vomit of the past. Stepping between the two, she placed one hand on each woman’s arm.  

 

“OK, let’s play nice.” Luisa settled back, smug and relaxed in complete contrast to Chloe across from her. Those always sparkling eyes were sharp and narrowed, Chloe’s shoulders set in a manner eerily similar to the time she’d forced Beca to come boxing with her. “If I go get us drinks, can you two manage not to kill each other for three seconds?” 

 

Luisa simply nodded while Chloe muttered something about ‘not being able to promise anything.’ Beca shot her a threatening glare before snaking her way through the crowd to the bar.  

 

Another drink in, Beca’s plan was almost going too well. The night’s assignment was entirely forgotten as Luisa curved into her side, somehow making German into a new Romance language with every murmur. Chloe looked as if she was about ready to break her glass with her bare hands. But she was sure as hell not going down without a fight; every movement was slightly exaggerated so as to draw Beca’s gaze.  

 

Beca, for her part, was doing her best to remain upright. She’d never thought that two gorgeous women vying for her attention could be anything other than the stuff of dreams, but she was breathless and overheated for reasons that had nothing to do with the bodies stretched from wall to wall. Chloe saved her from having to excuse herself for air by leaving for the bathroom herself. 

 

Luisa stepped away from Beca, dragging a hand from her collarbone to her chin before tilting her head to face her. “So, feisty maüs, would you like to explain what this is about?” 

 

“Um.” 

 

“That is what I thought.” She peered into Beca’s eyes, the brunette’s throat tightening as she drew closer. “Is there a reason why you are using me to make your friend jealous or are you just feeling particularly cruel this evening?” 

 

“I don’t mean to—“ 

 

“It is quite all right.” Luisa’s fingers ran through Beca’s hair, trailing against the side of her face. “I enjoy your company, and this is at least more entertaining than American television in the hotel.” Her eyes flitted away for a moment before she fixed Beca with a particularly devilish grin. “I can think of a way to help even more.” 

 

Her other hand cupped the side of Beca’s face, and Beca found her head shifted once again as the blonde closed the insignificant space between their mouths. It was not a gentle kiss, and Luisa’s tongue slipped between her lips almost instantaneously. Beca’s eyes closed as she leaned in to deepen it, hands landing on svelte hips to steady herself. She wasn’t sure of how long this lasted, feeling nothing but the bass and the other woman’s smooth lips against her own, but Luisa was the one to break it in the end, stepping back with her eyes fixed over Beca’s shoulder. 

 

Beca’s stomach plummeted as she met the eyes of a shell-shocked Chloe Beale. Her mouth opened and closed as if she was willing any words to come out, her hands fisted against her sides. The trained, precise body was shaking intensely, enough that Beca took a step forwards, hands outstretched to steady her. 

 

“Don’t.” If Chloe had punched her in the face, it could not have stung more. Beca’s arms dropped uselessly to her side as Chloe stormed to the table, a searing glance in Luisa’s direction before she snatched her purse and fled the club.  

 

Beca turned helplessly to face the taller woman, whose face was contorted with genuine confusion. “I—“ 

 

“Go,” Luisa said. “I am sorry. Please forgive me.” 

 

Beca nodded vigorously, her own clutch clasped between her hands as she forced all 5’2” of her body through the crowd. On the steps of the club, she breathed a sigh of relief as she caught sight of the familiar flaming mane in front of her. 

 

“Chlo!” And all she saw was Chloe’s shoulders jerk, almost beginning to turn before she opened the door of the cab, jumped inside, and was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes things get taken too far, people get hurt, and hot Germans end up feeling like assholes. Tune in next time for the thrilling conclusion of “If Only Everybody Said What They Were Thinking, We Wouldn’t Have These Problems, Now Would We?”


	5. Flashlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People are hurt, Beca sucks at words, and this particular story concludes. (I hate writing summaries)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So remember when this was a straight-up comedy story? But here we are. Can these aca-idiots figure their shit out with one chapter to go? Or will we be left endlessly unfulfilled with only fond memories of ridiculous Bechloe chemistry to sustain us? 
> 
> I mean, I know. You don’t. You might. But I could always pull a good ole’ bait ‘n switch on y’all, couldn’t I?

She was numb. She was numb and she’d fucked up and she’d hurt the only person she’d never been able to push away. She’d taken it too far; it was childish and _oh god what I have done to you?_ The cab driver was saying something, but Beca couldn’t find the ability to respond, all her words saved for one person.

 

She’d never seen anyone so broken. Jesse had accepted their breakup with nothing but a sad half-smile and a squeeze of her shoulder, promising that they’d stay friends with that sincere gaze of his. She’d seen an utterly destroyed Aubrey after they’d first been eliminated from Nationals, but nothing could compare to taking the primary source of happiness and goodness in all that Beca knew and leveling it to the ground.

 

And here she was shoving an enormous tip at the driver again, under circumstances she never would have imagined that first night. If she just hadn’t freaked out, hadn’t allowed the reflexive walls to come up, if she’d realized that Chloe could never hurt her, then…well, she didn’t know, but Beca would trade all the pitying looks in the world just to even have her friend back. She could’ve stayed in bed, turned to face Chloe and kissed the scar on her forehead, fingers twirling red locks as Chloe yawned, stretched, and arched her back as she always did when waking up. Anything would be worth it to just see those eyes look at Beca in that way that made her feel like she could accomplish anything, that smile that had somehow stopped her from immediately bolting at the activity fair in the first place, that voice that she’d fallen in love with so long ago and— _oh._

 

It was with her hands frozen on the door to their apartment that Beca realized she was in love with Chloe Beale. Hell, she’d been in love with Chloe Beale for longer than she’d loved Jesse, and she’d been exhausting herself with mental acrobatics as she’d attempted to reason it away those feelings as friendship. And despite those walls screaming at Beca to run, to hide and hope for some return to normality, she closed her eyes and pushed the door open.

 

She didn’t open them until she’d shut the door behind her. The lights were off, and Beca could feel the breeze from the open window against her back. It was silent, a silence that she’d loved for years, one that she hadn’t been allowed ever since joining the Bellas. And hell if she hadn’t come to enjoy every break in that pristine stillness, no matter how much she’d griped and pushed her headphones further over her ears. It meant she wasn’t alone. Surrounded by that solitude, she turned. Her eyes adjusted slowly as she didn’t dare to look up, but Beca knew she was there.

 

Chloe was more motionless than she’d ever seen her. Whether it was from laughing, dancing, or any of the other activities by which she gave all of herself to the world, Chloe could not sit still. And yet there she was, hands folded in front of her, elbows on the edge of the tile. Beca stepped forwards, and Chloe’s head slowly rose.

 

In that moment, Beca could not be more thankful for the darkness. Even dimly lit, Chloe’s face was empty. Makeup ran down from her eyes, but her mouth was set as she met Beca’s gaze. It wasn’t hatred, but the neutrality of the stare hurt more than Beca could have imagined.

 

“Chlo.” The word was out like a prayer, breathless and faint. Chloe’s face contorted, and she let out a shuddering gasp, shaking her head as Beca drew closer. “I’m so sorry. I—“

 

“How could—“ Chloe’s voice failed her, choked with betrayal. “I just…You _know_.”

 

Beca wanted nothing more than to shut her eyes, to stop watching the woman she loved crumble in front of her, but she forced another step forwards. “I know.”

 

Chloe’s shoulders shook as the tears finally fell. Beca felt sick, throat tight and stomach shaking as her breath shuddered in her chest.

 

“So is Luisa out there?” The vitriol in Chloe’s tone caught Beca off guard, her eyes burning with something so far from what she’d ever seen. “I can get out of the way so you can have another _fun_ night. Wouldn’t want to stop you.”

 

“Chloe, don’t—“

 

“Fuck you, Beca!” Beca flinched, unable to take it for a second longer and finally dropping her eyes. “You don’t even—what I…Four years!”

 

The tears were in both their eyes at this point, Beca biting her lip to hold the sobs in and failing miserably.

 

“No, you look at me,” Chloe snapped. Beca dragged her gaze upwards, swallowing to choke back all she could. “There’s no way you didn’t know. I just—and you can’t even look me in the eye.”

 

Beca didn’t trust herself to stand any longer, falling back against the fridge and barely maintaining her balance as her heels threatened to give out.

 

“It was easier, right? It was easier to just grab Jesse and kiss him and let him be there for you because it wouldn’t hurt if he disappointed you. Right?” Beca squeezed her eyes shut, mouth quivering. “It was easy to just have him there and then turn to me when it was convenient, because Chloe was always there. Chloe would drop everything because that’s what _friends_ do.”

 

The numbness had returned, and she almost prayed that the temporary deafness would follow. The walls were safe, and she could shut everything out and compartmentalize and push it all into a song. It’d worked before, and surely it’d work again. But maybe Beca could hide the pain and the loneliness, but she’d never had to deal with love.

 

“I told you a thousand times. I told you, and hell, all of the other Bellas told you, and you wouldn’t listen. You shut it out, you shut me out, except when you could take me and use me like you wanted.” Chloe broke with a sob, finding her breath as her body trembled. “And then you had the nerve to take it further, to _really_ use me and I—I fucking let you. I was an idiot, and I let you because I thought it was enough.”

 

And perhaps Beca was emotionally stunted with a carefully constructed bubble around herself, but it sure as hell sounded like Chloe was in love with her too. Or had been in love with her. Her eyes shot back up, hopelessly searching Chloe’s face for a remnant of anything she’d seen before.

 

“And you _ran_ , Beca! You just—I could’ve, I would’ve…” Chloe trailed off, closing her eyes. When she looked back up, it was with eyes that Beca recognized, open and clear and all too trusting. “Just tell me. Do you—did it mean anything?”

 

Every word Beca had suppressed for years rose up at once, fighting to be the first out of her mouth. “Chloe, I’m so sorry. I didn’t—“ It was out before she could stop herself, and the result was instantaneous.

 

Chloe Beale looked like she’d been slapped. She shoved the chair she’d been sitting in backwards with enough force that it hit the ground before sprinting to her room, slamming the door behind her. And walls be damned, Beca’s hand was trying the knob a second later, only to find it locked for the first time since they’d moved in.

 

“Chloe, I didn’t mean that!” She pounded her fists on the door, the only sound on the other side broken breaths and what sounded distinctly like a head slowly knocking against the very same door she was currently battling. “Chloe, please.”

 

Beca slumped to the floor, landing heavily on her knees with her forehead to the wood. “I’m so bad at this. I just…I can’t use my words properly and I know that’s not an excuse and I’m so sorry and I fucked up. I fucked up so badly and I just don’t know.” The knocking stopped. “I said everything wrong and I—I took it too far and I know you hate me, but you have to know that I hate myself so much more. I hurt you and I knew I would some day and I just didn’t think it would be like this. And I shouldn’t have let you come close, because I don’t know functional relationships and I knew I was going to hurt you but I couldn’t do it without you. I couldn’t…I couldn’t— _fuck._ ”

 

She slammed her fist against the door as the sobs tore through her body again, desperate and ripping. The silence threatened to swallow her up again, and she knew at that moment that even the sobs and the pain and everything else was preferable. “I love you, okay? I love you and I think you loved me too at some point, and I sound like one of those stupid movies you’ve made me watch but I can’t live without you. You came in and you forced your way into my shower stall and just everything else, and you’re part of me. And I don’t care if you don’t feel the same and I don’t care if you hate me for years but I can’t lose you. I can’t.” She said it over and over until it was almost a shout and the tears were flowing and her hands were pressed against the door as if she was holding on for dear life.

 

Landing face first on the floor was not what Beca had been expecting. The hard wood pressed her tears wet against her face, and she lay motionless, dazed and broken on the floor. And then a brush of skin against her shoulder, so soft and brief that she thought she’d imagined it.

 

Until it returned again, two hands cupping her shoulders and pulling her up, baby-blue eyes wide and shimmering inches from her own. Chloe’s arm moved to her waist, resting her body that had lost its autonomy against the doorframe as her eyes searched every inch of Beca’s face. Beca could feel her face contorting, eyes tracking Chloe’s with a strange mix of fear and need, all lost when Chloe closed the space between them.

 

And yeah, it wasn’t the first time they’d kissed. But oh god, this was something new. Chloe’s hands gently cradling Beca’s face, their lips slid over each other, meeting and parting as if they were scared to breathe any air other than that they shared. As Beca regained control of her arms, wrapping her hands around the back of Chloe’s neck, the redhead slowly pulled back.

 

Their space was filled with nothing but the sound of their own breaths, short, shallow, and in-sync. Cerulean eyes flitted between Beca’s lips and her own navy ones, and Chloe’s gradual grin was possibly the most gorgeous thing she’d ever seen. Resting her forehead on Beca’s, she nudged their noses together.

 

“Want to repeat that for me?”

 

Beca’s laugh mingled with a broken sob, a feeling of warmth surrounding her despite these tears that she could not seem to manage to turn off. “I love you,” she breathed. “I love you and I’m sorry I was too dumb to see it. I love you.” She repeated it until Chloe’s mouth was on her own.

 

This time, Beca ended the kiss, that nagging doubt rising up again. As she looked away, Chloe’s finger settled below her chin, tilting Beca’s line of sight back up to her own. “Hey,” she murmured. “Don’t go away. I’ve loved you ever since you sent that trophy flying through a window. I don’t think I could stop loving you if I tried.” She wrapped both arms around Beca’s shoulders and slowly drew them both to their feet without breaking contact.

 

Beca draped her arms around Chloe’s waist, head resting on her shoulder as the redhead drew absentminded circles over the bared skin of her back with one hand. Hours could have passed for all she knew before she chuckled into Chloe’s shoulder. “You said ‘fuck’ a lot” Beca snickered. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say it that much before.”

 

Chloe stepped back, eyebrows raised before a wicked grin passed over her face. “I think we could break that record.”

 

Before she could respond, Beca found herself pressed against the wall, long fingers threading through her hair. She gasped, pulling Chloe closer and gaining an even further appreciation for the thin fabric of the dress she’d been coerced into wearing as the redhead’s knee found purchase between her thighs. Chloe’s mouth moved to the edge of her jaw, and Beca could feel a shock up her spine as Chloe sucked at the delicate skin right below her earlobe.

 

“Okay,” Beca stuttered out over shaking breaths. “I am completely on board with this plan.”

 

Chloe responded with a hum against her neck, Beca’s hands twisting in the fabric of her dress as she struggled to stay upright. One of Chloe’s hands dropped to Beca’s thigh, slowly sliding under the material of her dress as Beca moaned and hitched her leg up over Chloe’s hip.

 

Feeling Beca’s legs trembling, Chloe leaned back, gaze passionate and wild. “I think we need to get you out of those heels.” She smirked. “And other things.” Beca nodded vigorously as Chloe removed the hand twisted in her hair to push open the door to her room. In the dim city lights that shone through her window, Chloe was open and exposed; none of the flirty grins or suggestive winks or flounces that Beca had come to realize were her own protective mechanisms.

 

Beca slowly reached up to place a kiss on Chloe’s lips, soft and short and full of anything that her words hadn’t conveyed. Chloe’s breath ghosted over her nose, and those unbelievable eyes were still.

 

Of course, Beca wasn’t going to complain as Chloe then turned and walked into her room, unzipping her dress and wriggling out of it as she went, leaving her in nothing but her bra, heels, and, to Beca’s dismay, panties. “So,” she drawled, voice barely above a whisper. “Are you just going to stand there and leave me on my own?”

 

Beca figured that a tackling run was not the sexiest thing she’d ever managed, but a naked Chloe, still with faint bite marks on her hip and collarbones, had a way of pushing all of Beca’s concerns to the side. They landed on the bed, Beca bouncing lightly before settling over Chloe’s waist, one hand on her stomach and the other steadying herself above her shoulder.

 

Chloe’s hands were moving up the back of Beca’s thighs, prompting a moan from the brunette as she rolled her hips and leaned down to the other girl’s neck. Beca’s lips wrapped around her pulse point, the hands on her legs tightened as Chloe’s breath hitched below her. The stabilizing hand moved to Chloe’s chest as Beca’s other thumb slipped between Chloe’s underwear and hipbone.

 

All manner of coherent thought was lost as Chloe’s hands cupped the curve of Beca’s ass, leaving her with nothing but warmth and desperate, breathless desire. Chloe’s hands roamed, and before Beca knew it, her thong had fallen to her mid-thigh, Chloe’s fingertips resting in place of the straps. And Beca would be embarrassed about how turned on she unquestionably and clearly was, but she couldn’t be bothered to give a damn at this point.

 

Still, she was about 100% sure that if Chloe were to continue her journey around and down, Beca would last all of two seconds, and she had a week of pent-up sexual frustration to take care of. So she followed the most logical course of action and bent to pull Chloe’s underwear down with her teeth.

 

It was a bit awkward at first, as Chloe’s hands froze along her hips before she seemed to comprehend what Beca was doing, sliding up her dress to allow the brunette further range of motion. “Beca?” A panting gasp sounded from above as Beca pushed backwards, her own nerves pounding in her ears. But Beca Mitchell had always been a fast learner, and her tongue darted out as her fingers slipped into Chloe’s core.

 

The sound that it generated sent waves deep through Beca’s body, and she rocked her fingers in and out to meet Chloe’s hips, gradually gaining confidence in what she’d been doing with her mouth. Experimentally, she curled her fingers, and the dancer let out a keening cry as she arched her back, hands wrapped in the sheets around her. Beca pulled back, angling her hand so that the heel of her palm made contact as Chloe needed it, the string of curses pouring forth from her mouth as Beca increased her pace.

 

As Beca felt Chloe’s walls tighten around her, she saw the other girl’s eyes searching for her own. And god, if it wasn’t amazing to watch her eyes roll back in her head as she groaned out Beca’s name, interspersed with ‘I love you’s’ as she fell back.

 

Beca crawled up to the space on Chloe’s shoulder where she fit perfectly, head resting against her chest as the older girl’s breath slowed beside her. “I think I could get used to that sort of sound from you,” she whispered, Chloe’s response a  mumbled sigh.

 

And so Beca was caught completely off guard when suddenly there was a knee between her thighs again, Chloe’s hands shoving the dress fully over her head. Beca’s body took on a life of its own, and she found herself grinding against Chloe’s leg. The redhead shot her a slow wink, angling her body forwards and eliciting a husky “fuck” from Beca, who immediately bit her lip to stop anything worse from coming out.

 

“Stop that.” Chloe’s face hovered over Beca’s own. “I think that’s my job.” And her mouth was on Beca’s, teeth capturing her bottom lip as Beca closed her eyes, no choice but to let the sensations roll over her.

 

By the time Beca regained some sort of feeling beyond her heart pounding and being generally more aroused than she could ever recall, she realized that Chloe had straddled her hips, removed her bra, and was slinking her way down her body with slow, rocking movements.

 

So yeah, maybe Beca was a fast learner, but goddamn if she couldn’t think of a better teacher. Chloe seemed to be everywhere at once, kissing up the inside of her thighs as her fingers trailed barely over Beca’s folds, next with her mouth over her center as she easily slid in a third finger, and nipping lightly at her hipbone with a smile that Beca could feel until her body trembled and gave out. But Chloe was not done, her hand continuing its wonderfully punishing pace until Beca cried out again, fingers pulling at Chloe’s hair.

 

“Shit.” Beca was spent, eyes closed as she let out a shaky laugh while Chloe rested gently above her waist. She leaned down, placing a gentle kiss on Beca’s mouth before sitting back and allowing her gaze to roam over the brunette’s body. “See something you like?”

 

“Guess it could be worse,” Chloe replied with a shrug. “Ear monstrosities and all.”

 

“No.” Beca rolled her eyes as she ran her thumb over the star on Chloe’s hip. “Do not bring Aubrey into the bedroom. I swear to god.”

 

“Not feeling that adventurous yet?”

 

“You are so lucky I love you.” Beca sat up slightly, kissing Chloe’s forehead over the tiny scar that she made a note to finally ask her about at some point.

 

Chloe’s hand stroked her cheek, slow and traipsing. “Yeah, I really am.”

* * *

 

She was almost scared to open her eyes. Chloe could feel the sun on her face, and the light filtered in as she’d never closed the blinds the night before. There was a slight breeze blowing in, lifting the sheets over her body. Their bodies.

 

Beca shifted against her, sharp point of her elbow digging lightly into Chloe’s stomach. But she could not care less as she opened her eyes to find navy ones already matching hers.

 

“You’re up surprisingly early,” Chloe murmured, echoing herself from a day that felt set in a completely different world.

 

The wide smile Beca gave her was unlike anything she’d seen on her face before, open, unguarded, and unabashedly loving. “I’d say I had plans, but I’m honestly pretty set on not moving from this bed all day.”

 

“Well, that’s just illogical.”

 

“ _Shit._ ” Chloe propped herself up on her elbow as Beca shot up, panicked expression on her face. “I was totally supposed to scout a DJ last night.”

 

Chloe couldn’t help but laugh as Beca rubbed her eyes, grumbling inarticulate statements about Jeff and something that sounded like ‘fire and brimstone.’ She slipped her arm around the brunette’s shoulders, placing kisses on the side of her face until she tilted her head back to meet Chloe’s sightline.

 

“You are an overachieving workaholic, and I love you for it.”

 

Beca reluctantly scoffed, leaning into Chloe’s shoulder as she settled against the headboard. “When I get fired, can I come live with you?”

 

“I’m gonna have to ask my roommate.”

 

“Dork.”

 

“You know you love it.”

 

Beca licked her lips, eyes almost misty as she nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

 

A few minutes later, Chloe’s stomach interrupted the sanctity of their little nest with a grumble. Despite Beca’s protests, she allowed herself to be pulled out of bed, accepting a Bella shirt almost definitely stolen from Amy. “So, pancakes?”

 

Chloe led the way into the kitchen, pulling the flour from the pantry as Beca righted the chair still on the floor from the previous night. “Works for me. But, after that, I do recall something from last week regarding what you wanted to do on this counter.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. So. Beca is a sappy nerd, but all sappy nerds deserve matching angelic, sappy nerds of their own. I kinda went angsty on y’all, and for that, I apologize, but I’ve never claimed to be anything but a dork with feelings and decent syntax. Hope you enjoyed it, and I would be stoked if you said hi on Tumblr at bicamitchell. Beca outtttttttttt


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